With that uncomfortable rule out of the way, here are the instructions:
Box number one is for when you graduate high school.
Box number two is for when you meet the girl you’re going to marry.
Box number three is for your wedding day.
Box number four is when you have your first child and make my beautiful Della Ribbon a grandmother.
You got all that?
I know you do.
There is no one else I trust more than you to do this for me.
I love you, Jacob.
With all my heart.
Forever.
I’m so proud of the man you’re becoming and so grateful for how well you look after your mother.
Love, Dad.
* * * * *
“Congratulations to Jacob. For leaving behind the rank of student and becoming a fully-fledged farmer. Heaven help you, son.” Grandpa John chuckled as he toasted me with his beer. His white hair and beard made him look like some plaid wearing Santa Claus. “Heaven help you for the pre-dawn wake-ups, the midnight close-ups, the constant hunger from working so hard, and the never-ending war between you, Mother Nature, and her seasons.”
Aunt Cassie laughed as Uncle Chip stole a wafer from their daughter, Nina’s, chocolate sundae. “You’re taking on a lot, Jacob.” Aunt Cassie’s eyes twinkled. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
I nodded, taking a sip of my third Coke of the night. “More than ready.”
“Ready for the mowing and raking and baling and seeding and—”
“I’m ready.” I grinned.
“Ready for the cut palms and boot blisters and—”
“Nothing you say will change my mind, Aunt Cassie.”
She raised her glass and clinked it to mine. “I know. Just teasing. You were born ready. Ren made sure of that.”
The small inhale around the table was the only sign of pain talking about a ghost.
I looked into the fizzy depths of my drink, reminded all over again that Dad’s gift and mine still hid wrapped in my hoodie on the floor. It was like he was there with me, watching and waiting, just as anxious as I was to see how his gift would be received.
Throughout the meal, I’d tried to find the perfect time to give them, but there never seemed to be one.
Stupid to think I could give something so personal in a diner full of chattering people.
Mom had arranged this family get-together to celebrate my leaving school. It’d been an easy evening with greasy, yummy food, lots of laughs—mainly at my expense—and a sugar rush from the massive banana toffee pie I’d had.
We had a booth at the back of the restaurant where the jukebox played random tunes, keeping us private but still part of the atmosphere. But no matter how comfortable I was hanging out with my family, I never fully relaxed in this place. In this town. Not because I didn’t like the people who lived here, but because they didn’t like me.
Or some, anyway.
I was the odd one out even though I was born here and had as much claim to this land as anyone. I was a Wild. And being a Wild came with history.
All my life, no matter how often Mom and I would eat at this diner or Grandpa John took me to the farm and feed store, I always knew I was ‘different.’
Most of the older folk knew my parents, which meant all of them had opinions.
There were two categories.
Camp number one were overly friendly, kind, and treated me with syrupy sweetness for losing my dad.
Camp number two avoided me, gossiped about me, and glowered as I walked past. They believed I was the spawn of incest and could barely look at me without disgust.
Mention the last name Wild in this town and everyone had an opinion on whether Mom and Dad were siblings.
The adults might glare and whisper, but the kids?
They were the mean ones. The ones who took great delight in saying I was special and not ‘right.’ That I wasn’t meant to be alive. That I wasn’t normal like them.
Well, good.
I didn’t want to be normal.
It was yet another reason I hated school. Not that I ever told Mom that. It also didn’t help that I’d overheard my teacher saying that Grandpa John was wrong to split up Cherry River and give Mom and Dad land. That my parents had arrived from nowhere and nothing and didn’t deserve to have what others couldn’t afford given to them for free.
It was never free.
It came with the biggest price tag in the world.
“You okay, Jacob?” Mom touched my forearm, snapping me back and making me wince at the physical contact. She immediately removed her fingers with an understanding smile. I’d forgotten how kind she was with my need not to be hugged or kissed. I knew she would like more affection between us, but she didn’t push.
My heart swelled with love and shame for everything I’d put her through.